Me: Well at least one thing is for sure. I DO NOT WANT TO BE MY CAT FOR A DAY. Sounds like too much work.

Hubs: This conversation is too much work.

Silence fills the room, AGAIN. I walk to the refrigerator, grab a carton of ice cream – and a spoon. Cats stare at me… I walk to cupboard pull out kitty treats, disperse appropriately… okay maybe I give them to many. After this conversation I don’t want to die. I value my life. And my husbands – even if tires of my conversations.

Hah! I love these kinds of conversations. My husband told me that he, "Never, under no circumstances," wants to dissect whether or not having a tail would be a good thing again. The good news is my kids LOVE these kinds of conversations so that's what we talk about at dinner. They'll even do the tail vs wings analysis with me!

I can't click that link because I'm paranoid enough about my cats as is. I love your conversations! Nothing will ever get my husband to make dinner, though. Probably a good thing. His dinners would be fattening and have no nutritional value.

I thought I was going to have to go to bed tonight without laughing aloud once. Now my stomach hurts from laughing, and I will sleep fine... because I'm not the one home with the cats. I'm visiting family, hubby is camping with Boy Scouts (& cooking them fry bread)so only my 19-year-old son is in any danger. But Furball, no longer Fireball, is too lazy to do anything except meow anyone to death.